


Secret Diary of a Call Girl

by DelilahBlueEyes



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Crossover, F/M, Rumbelle - Freeform, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-12
Updated: 2014-08-24
Packaged: 2017-12-05 02:39:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/717912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DelilahBlueEyes/pseuds/DelilahBlueEyes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Belle is a high priced call girl in London whose relationship with her very favorite client is.... complicated. When Mr. Gold comes to her with a peculiar proposition, Belle has to decide whether to leave the life she knows or to lose a good friend and possibly the best bedmate she's ever had. And of course the possibility to turn that good friendship into something more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this early in the morning when I was sick. I should have been sleeping but I'm rewatching Secret Diary of a Call Girl and this happened. In the show, her real name is Hannah and her client name is Belle. I've switched those round for obvious reasons. Hope you enjoy!

Belle flipped her hair idly in the mirror, smacking her lips and brushing a finger under her left eye to smooth the skin there. She stepped back and looked herself over, from her perfectly curled hair to the comfortable but flattering silk robe that covered her from mid thigh to throat. A glance at the clock showed that her client was ten minutes late, unusual for this particular man. She was just wondering if she should call her agent to see if he’d cancelled when there was a sharp knock at the door, which she hurried to open with a smile. And there he was.

“You’re late, Mr. Gold,” she reprimanded, though the sunny smile still on her lips took the sting out of her words.

“I know,” he sighed as he stepped forward and kissed her lightly, handing over his coat for her to hang up as he closed the door. “Meeting ran long and traffic was terrible.”

“That’s alright. I can wait a few extra minutes for my favorite client. If you’ll excuse me a moment? You know where everything is if you’d like a shower.” Slipping the discreetly sealed envelope from his coat pocket into her palm, she hung it on the coatrack and smoothed the material carefully.

She stepped into the kitchen to make her safety call and count the money, ticking off the bills as the familiar, cold voice of her agent pierced her ear.

“So, he hasn’t murdered you after all?” Regina drawled, the keys of her laptop clicking away steadily in the background.

“Very funny, Regina. All right here.” She clicked off the phone and set it on the counter before the irritating woman could reply, slipping the money into the space between two of her wine glasses in the cabinet and shut the door.

Back in the bedroom, she found Mr. Gold sitting neatly on the edge of the bed, shirt half unbuttoned and hair sliding into his face as he leaned forward to rub at his lower leg with a grimace.

“Oh, are you hurt?” She asked, making to kneel before him and massage the muscles herself. Some escorts might find it demeaning but Belle had found that she’d always enjoyed massages, both giving and receiving them.

“No, I’m fine. Just an old war wound acting up.” He caught her hands in his before she could touch his leg and used them to pull her up to him, wrapping his arms around her and kissing her firmly.

This was just as well, she thought dizzily as he pulled her off balance and rolled her beneath him. He was an excellent kisser. And beneath the minty taste of the toothpaste he’d just used, she could taste him, the wonderfully spicy, drugging taste of him. As she tilted her head and opened her mouth at his prompting, she felt him press against her hip, hot and hard and couldn’t help moaning. 

She hadn’t been kidding when she’d said he was her favorite client. He was quiet, warm, intense, he kissed like an expert and fucked like a god. He was always firm and in charge, but he never bruised her or used her like an object. Plus he was gorgeous. The big, piercing brown eyes and the lovely, feathered hair. He dressed impeccably in perfectly tailored suits and carried a walking stick that she wouldn’t mind being spanked with if he ever had the inclination. Overall he was every escort’s dream and a damn witty, kind one at that. It was always a good day when she saw Mr. Gold on her diary.

He was eager today, shucking his pants and shirt quickly and running his hands over her until she was as frenzied as he was. 

“Much as I love you wrapped up in silk, might I get rid of this robe?” He always asked before taking her clothes off, always. Whether it be a pause before he reached for the clasp of her bra, his words or just the look in his eyes, he always asked.

“Yes, please,” she grinned and slipped her arms out of the sleeves of her robe when he pulled them down and threw it away from the bed.

He groaned quietly when he caught sight of the sky blue satin lingerie set she wore underneath it, though he was quick to divest her of that too. As soon as they were both naked, he propped himself up on his forearms and watched her face intently as she rolled a condom onto him. Then he slipped his arms beneath her, hooked his hands up over her shoulders and plunged into her.

“Good god,” he ground out against the skin of her throat as he thrust hard, drawing a moan from both of them and he did it again. “It’s been ages. It feels like it’s been ages.”

She jerked his head back so she could kiss him and not say what she was thinking. It had been ages. Almost a month since he’d been in to see her and she’d felt his absence keenly. She shouldn’t, but she had. He obliged her by occupying himself with her mouth for a time, before he shifted down to her breasts. Belle had never been with a man who payed her body quite so much attention. He applied himself equally to laving and sucking on each nipple, without missing a beat or losing his rhythm. His hands strayed over her, occasionally drawing his nails over her skin, though never so hard as to break the skin.

His enthusiasm and obvious pleasure were infectious, and it took all of her little remaining sanity to keep from shouting when one hand finally slipped down to tease against her clit, adding pressure to the pulsing she was already feeling. Just a few more flicks and a gentle scrape of his teeth against he throat and she threw her head back, keening high in her throat as her orgasm washed over her. He followed after a few shaky last shaky thrusts, pressing as far into her as he could get and clutching her tight with one arm across her back and the other in the blankets by her hip. As she came down, Belle stroked her fingers through his soft hair, watching the few streaks of silver glinting in the sunlight through the large windows of her apartment. He sighed above her, all of the tension melting out of his frame as he rested against her, pressing languorous kisses to her collarbone.

“I missed you, Hannah.” It was mumbled against her skin, muffled by his own fatigue and what, embarrassment? “Hannah… It doesn’t really suit you, if you don’t mind my saying it. You seem more graceful or elegant than a Hannah. Like a Charlotte or a Rose.”

She didn’t respond, only continued to draw her fingers through his hair until he lifted himself away from her, bent to retrieve his pants and didn’t turn to face her again while he dressed. She loved the quiet, close minutes after they fucked. When he would lie against her and kiss her and say such sweet, honest things. This was new, though, him musing about her real name. There had always been such careful lines drawn between Belle and Hannah, and Mr. Gold had known that, always respected that.

Standing and slipping her robe back on, she pulled her hair over one shoulder and waited while he buttoned his coat and straightened his sleeves. When he turned to look at her again, the strained smile on his face cut her deeply. This was one client that had never left her less than smiling and lazily satisfied and now he could hardly look at her.

“Well, thank you,” he cleared his throat and lifted his cane from where it rested against the wall.

“Of course. I’m always glad to see you.” She stepped close enough to run her hands down the lapels of his jacket and look up at him through his hair. “And… I will see you again… won’t I?”

He softened then, raised one hand to cup her chin as he nodded then kissed her, pushing her disheveled hair behind her ear before he moved away, leaving as quietly as he always did. Belle fell back against the wall and dropped her head into her hands, wondering why she wanted to cry. He’d said he would be back and Mr. Gold was a man of his word. So she would see him again. She would.

Straightening up, she went to pull the sheets from her bed and bundle them into the washing machine. She would need a shower and a proper meal before her next client. Dr. Whale was always on time and god knew his… preferences required a lot of energy on her part.


	2. A Night at the Opera

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mr. Gold books an outcall with Belle, but their night at the opera takes a turn for the not-so-good.

"And he tried to find out your name?" 

"No, he just told me that Hannah didn't suit me and sort of-- I dunno, he just picked a couple different names that suited me better. Like he didn't feel like Hannah was real.... Like he was seeing Belle instead of Hannah."

Ruby yawned and flipped through the pages of her copy of National Enquirer, skimming over a story of a sordid affair some American governor had entered into with a starlet. She was lounging in just a pair of panties and a bra, long frame stretched out across her massive bed as she knocked her crossed heels into her backside. Ruby was a friend Belle had made when she'd come to her with questions about how to start her career in the world of escort services. Belle had advised her to start up a website and find an agent, advice that Ruby had not immediately taken her up on as the prospect of losing 40% of her income hadn't seemed appealing at first. After a run in with a man who'd almost torn out a handful of her hair in his attempt to forcefully persuade her, she'd sought out Regina with all thoughts of 40% gone and buried.

She was American and somewhat brazen, though her clients seemed to love that about her. A tall, athletic woman, Ruby had run away from home after high school to escape the nagging and control of her grandmother. She had not expected the fierce older woman to come after her, dragging her back home and demanding that she attend university and better herself before she go chasing after lemurs. Ruby had agreed, on the condition that she be allowed to go oversea to study, which her grandmother had allowed as long as she received regular updates as to her grades. And now she was a call girl. Belle hoped she got this rebellious streak out and went back to the family that loved her. She herself had lost her mother as a girl and her father had given up caring a long while ago. Not that she'd been driven to prostitution by personal tragedy or anything. She just enjoyed sex and easy money.

Having gotten to talk the situation over with someone, Belle left Ruby's flat and headed home for the day. She'd taken one off, no clients, no meeting with her agent, just some shopping for a new dress or two and rest from having to parade around as a different person. After a bath and a glass of wine, she settled down in bed for a nap that would probably just turn into sleeping straight through the night. Oh, if she could ever marry rich and have this kind of free time all the time, she wouldn’t think twice.

Of course her phone began to set up a racket just as she was drifting off. She groped blindly across her nightstand until she found it and raised it to her ear. Only one person ever really called her in the evening.

“What, Regina?” she demanded, holding the receiver away from her ear and yawning.

“Hello to you too, princess. I’ve got a booking for you tonight. Mr. Gold again,” came the customary purr of her agent. She may fool the clients with that honeyed tone but Belle knew how quickly she could turn to acid and vinegar. She could be a real bitch sometimes.

“I was meant to have a day off.” She griped, sitting up and looking at the clock on the wall. She hadn’t done a thing with her hair and she was drowsy and tipsy from the wine. 

“Well, excuse me for expecting that you’d make time for your such a well paying regular. Shall I call him and let him know you’re too busy tonight?” And there was the real Regina. Hard as a whip and used to being obeyed.

“No, course not. What does he want? Just the usual incall?” 

“No, he mentioned something about going to see a show and an overnight at his home, you lucky girl.” Belle rolled her eyes at the sweetness that practically rolled out of her earpiece. “And you’d better hurry and get dressed, dear. His car will be over to pick you up in an hour.”

The line clicked off and Belle crawled out of bed with a groan. First to set her hair straightener to it’s hottest setting, get herself a glass of water and a packet of crisps to try to absorb some of the alcohol and head to her closet to pick something out. Of course Regina, damn vindictive woman that she was, hadn’t told her what kind of show she would be going to. Probably some sort of musical show, either an orchestra or an opera. Either way, deadly dull but she’d push through for Mr. Gold and hopefully be rewarded with mind blowing sex and good company for her trouble. Though she’d gone to university in Melbourne before leaving home and was an educated woman, she could never fully engage in things like opera. They flew right over her head. Thankfully she’d only have to sit through the first act, as no man paid for an escort and sat through an entire performance with her. 

She mulled over the more formal gowns on the ‘Hannah’ side of her closet, disqualifying anything too formal or too revealing. No matter where they were going, her job was to be the complement to her client. To look glamorous but not overshadow him. Be warm and inviting but focused on him, never giving more attention to the room than to her… date.

In the interest of looking good but not too good, she selected a midnight blue, mid thigh length dress that cinched in at the waist and flared out in a shredded, feathered skirt. A gauzy swathe of fabric gathered from under the bust to her left shoulder, leaving her arms entirely bare, a nice balance to the amount of leg she would show when paired with her heels. Straightening her hair took a good ten minutes, make up and final maintenance taking another twenty. By the time she was packing a discreetly sized overnight bag (condoms, a lacy nighty, a tooth brush and a change of panties), her doorbell was being buzzed by her stern doorman who informed her that the car was waiting for her at the curb. With a last look over in the mirror and a silly wink at herself, she bounded out the door and to the elevator. Leroy scowled when she thanked him in passing the doorman’s booth, though she knew he didn’t mind her all that much. She was clean and quiet and she never brought home any psychos. 

The car waiting for her was sleep and black, a town car rather than a cab or a limo and she found it just to her taste as the driver opened the door and helped her in. Sadly there was no sign of Mr. Gold once inside so she snapped open her compact to check her make up again. This was new for them. Mr. Gold was not her only client that had never asked for an outcall, but he was the only one that surprised her by doing so. As she made her way through the city she found herself fidgeting, tugging at the skirt of her dress and twisting her hair nervously, and scolded herself. This was a business trip for her, not a date. This was a regular night with a regular client who was paying her money for her pretty smiles and her body and nothing more. Then why couldn’t she banish the fluttering feeling in her stomach? Why was she afraid that she would trip and stumble in her high heels and embarrass the both of them in front of a bunch of strangers? 

The car arrived at the theater and the driver opened the door again, letting the chatter and laughter of the people milling about before the theater. She looked up at the behemoth of a building as she stood, all marble and dark stone, it reminded her of a great black storm cloud resting atop the city of London. She had to watch where she walked as she got closer, craning her neck back making her dizzy. Her heels clicked sharply against the wide marble steps as she moved past groups of older men and women gabbing together like old friends and middle-aged men with bleached blonde porn starlets hanging on their arms. Inside, the buzz of voices became more claustrophobic, bearing down from the high ceiling until she felt like she was standing by the ocean during a storm. 

She moved slowly through the crown, looking up at the opulent paintings and gold gilt woodwork that surrounded her. Scenes of angels cavorting with each other among beautifully shadowed clouds, punctuated every few meters by fat, glossy pillars. She was so captivated by the lush surroundings that it took her a moment to realize that a large warm hand had landed at her waist. She turned half around with a sunny smile to accept the kiss he pressed to her cheek. 

“You look lovely, dear.” 

Mr. Gold pulled her gently against him as they pressed through the surging crowd toward the bar where he ordered them each a glass of champagne. They stood close together in a shadowed corner of the bar smiling and talking until the lights flashed to signal the beginning of the show. He took her champagne glass back to the bar before returning to guide her around the side of the tall ornate steps to a small elevator tucked into the corner of the room, scanning a small black card against a little black pad to call the doors to open. They stepped inside and Belle turned to smile at him.

“Clever man!” she cried as the noise from the lobby faded and a quiet hum replaced it. “We can get to our seats without huffing and puffing like school children running the mile.”

“Oh, don’t give me quite so much credit,” he chuckled self deprecatingly as he gestured to his injured leg. “The only reason we can’t walk like the rest of the masses is because I’m a hopeless cripple.”

“Oh, hush,” she crooned, pulling him around to face her with a stern look on her face. “You ought to know that I am the last person you can convince that you’re hopeless or helpless. I get a first hand look at just how very… helpful you are on a regular basis.” 

He raised a hand to pat the one she’d laid along the edge of his suit jacket, a gentle but dismissive look on his face. “That’s kind of you, dear.”

“Hey, I mean it,” she insisted, putting her hands on his shoulders and looking into his suddenly hesitant eyes. She wasn’t supposed to say things like this. Although she wasn’t supposed to have favorites in the first place to say this kind of thing too, so that was a moot point. “You’re sweet, you’re smart, you’re incredibly sexy, whether you choose to believe it or not. You’re also incredibly…. thorough. You, uh…”

He quirked a questioning brow at her, leaning closer until their breath mingled between them. “Go on. I what?” He murmured.

“You… take care of me,” she looked down as she said, feeling her face heat as she admitted to something that went against the very nature of her profession. “I mean, none of the other—no one else really thinks about me when we’re…. Oh, god. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be talking, I should just shut my mouth and look pretty.”

She hid her face against his shoulder as he laughed, the rich sound ringing in the small space around them. His hands slid around her waist, flattening comfortingly against her lower back as he kissed her hair.

“It’s another kind of pleasure entirely, sweetheart, to see a woman come undone because of your effort. I admit it is a particular favorite of mine and sadly not one shared by the vast majority of my sex.” He brushed her hair back over her shoulder and pressed his lips slowly to her skin, brushing them idly back and forth as he spoke. “I do so love to see you undone, Hannah. It’s intoxicating to see you, to feel you. You are…”

It hadn’t escaped her notice that that was the first time he’d said her name—her show name, but not else managed to impress itself upon her suddenly fuzzy mind. Well, she’d known he liked to finish her off but this was a whole new thing. This was a kink that clearly needed to be explored and experimented with and she wondered how clean the floor or maybe the wall of the elevator was good enough because his hand was ever so slowly inching a hand toward the hem of her dress and breathing heavily in her ear and god, she hadn’t gotten off in a week at least.

Ding.

The elevator doors slid open to reveal a dimly lit, red velvet carpeted hallway that led off into the distance. With a last nip at her shoulder, Mr. Gold stepped away and took her hand, leading her properly down the hall. Belle sighed and followed easily enough, swinging her bag sharply through the air behind her before settling it back at her elbow. No sense in letting him see how he’d frustrated her, and really, she shouldn’t be anyway. It was alright to playact for their ego or to be turned on when they got going but this was different. He’d made her all hot and bothered just whispering a bit of filth at her in a lift. For god’s sake, she had to get a hold of herself!

The hall curved off around the perimeter of the opera hall but he stopped at the third door off to their left, sliding his little black pass card through a slot above the door handle before pulling her in after her. Belle moved to the edge of the small balcony and peered over the padded velvet handrail to see the levels of balconies and general seating below them. It was a small room when she turned to study it, wallpapered in an iridescent red damask pattern with gold accents around the ceiling and floor. There was a small coatrack above a plush little chaise lounge to the left and a large, gilt mirror beside the door, which was designed to blend into the wall so neatly that it would have been undetectable but for the crystal doorknob in the center of it. At the front of the box were two thick, velvet armless chairs framed by a large gold painted privacy shield, protecting them from the view of anyone in a box to either side of them without hindering their view of the stage and the show soon to take place there.

“Very nice,” she commented when he approached and bowed her into her seat with a little grin. “Is this all yours, then?”

“It is for the night. I am not a regular attendee of shows here but I thought it would be more fun if we didn’t have to deal with any stuffy old opera enthusiasts during the intermission.”

She smiled quietly to herself as the theater quieted and the lights dimmed, a smattering of applause greeting the man that stepped onto the stage to introduce the show and spout off a long list of supporters of the opera, without which the show would not have been possible. Trying not to let her mounting boredom (and the singing hadn’t even begun), Belle stared out across the theater at the various cherubs and half-naked women that lined the ceiling. For a time she entertained herself with rating the costumes and acting skills of each new character, though she had not a clue what they were screeching at each other. Italian was a weak point of hers. Just when she was getting to the point of mentally flipping through her diary to go over her next month’s bookings when she felt the fabric of her skirt stirring. She glanced down to find a long-fingered hand drifting through the strands of feather-like fringes there and followed the hand up to it’s owner. He was looking down at the stage and the story unfolding there, seeming intent on it though he looked nearly as bored as she did.

She grinned when the gentle brushes turned into more solid strokes, up and down the skirt as his hand meandered down toward the hem for the second time that night. When his fingertips reached bare skin he lingered there, running them back and forth along the seam between the thick fabric and her thigh. His fingers were warm and calloused as they moved to allow him to place his whole hand along her leg, shifting it in small circles that sent tingles through her. Then it started to inch upward, dragging the skirt ahead of it. Belle bit her tongue to stop the sigh that wanted to escape when she thought she knew what he was up to, but just when he reached the apex of her thighs his hand disappeared entirely and he was suddenly standing over her. With a single tug he had her up out of her chair and was guiding her toward the door while every cell in her body screamed FINALLY!

She was puzzled then, when he stopped by the short chaise lounge and settled her onto it with his hands on her hips. Her puzzlement turned momentarily into shock and worry when he carefully lowered himself to kneel before her. What, here? She glanced around wildly as he leaned forward and planted his lips on her neck. Their box was lit at the front, but where they were at the back was so shadowed as to hide them from any onlookers. The music had picked up onstage to the point where she could hardly hear her own heartbeat thundering in her ears. Deciding that the risk was low, she lifted her hips slightly to help him in rucking up her skirt. He grunted when she rolled her pelvis against his, tugging harder to get her short dress out of the way and she laughed and repeated the movement. She’d just slipped her hand into her purse to rummage around and find a condom when he pulled back and frowned weaving all ten fingers into the feathered material and pulling hard, growling when it didn’t budge.

“Here, unzip it,” she shouted near his ear over the trill of a soprano serenading her lover, leaning forward and twisting to the side to give him room to do so.

He’d just reached around her to feel for the zipper of her dress when he suddenly threw himself sideways, catching himself on his hands as she struggled not to sprawl across him.

“Oh, Mr. Gold, what happened? Are you alright?” She half fell over him to kneel at his side and tried to help him up. “Are you hurt?”

“Shit,” he hissed as he gripped his lower right leg and curled away from her. His face was turned toward the wall as he sat up and smashed his fist into the plaster before him, the resulting thump making Belle jump and fall off her heels so that she sprawled beside him.

“Hey.” She raised a hand to pet his shoulder through his jacket, upset when he flinched away from her. “If kneeling hurts we can try down here. Just lie back and let me—“

“I don’t need your pity!” he snarled, dragging himself upright and snatching his cane from the floor. He took her hand and hauled her up as well and stalked toward the door as she picked up her purse and followed him, completely bewildered. 

He led her down the hall and back to the elevator, practically slapping his card across the scanner and refusing to look at her when she stepped in beside him. In the excruciating silence, Belle thought she could hear his hands clenching tightly around the handle of his cane. She didn’t know what had happened. Everything had gone so well. They’d been playful and flirted and he’d nearly had her skirt up around her hips when he’d fallen. It had to do with the cause of his limp, his old war injury, but for the life of her she didn’t understand why that should make him so seemingly angry with her, One moment she’d been about to get exactly what she (and very like he) wanted, now she was almost too afraid to speak in the face of his obvious, unexplained anger. Almost, but not quite.

“It was a nice show,” she murmured, the joke falling terribly flat as he sighed and she bit her lip and tried not to breathe too loudly until they got to the lobby.

The doors slid open and all the opulence of the lobby that had fascinated her before was lost on her now as she trailed after her furious client. He was limping more visibly than usually though it did not slow his pace as he nearly ran down the stairs and she wondered if he meant to leave her standing on the curb waiting for a cab to take her home. Of course he was too much of a gentleman for that, anger and all. 

“Come on.” He’d waved the driver back into his seat and was holding the door open for her to slide in before him, though he looked out across the roof of the car, apparently fascinated with the pitch-black storefront of a little bookstore on the corner.

Once they were both inside, the driver slid the partition in the center of the car down to ask where they were going. Belle had almost opened her mouth to answer when Mr. Gold had given the address of her apartment building. The partition had slid back up, her companion turned to face determinedly out the window and Belle tried to choke down the tears that wanted to make a fool of her. She could still fix this, could still salvage this suddenly awkward and horrible night. 

Somehow.


	3. In The Shadows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle struggles to deal with Gold's insecurities and the driver struggles not to hear what's going on behind the partition of the limo.

It took three blocks or so for Belle to gather her courage enough to breach the uncomfortable silence filling the car around them like an oppressive bubble of silent anger. Her hair whispered against the cool leather seat at her back as she turned to watch him pointedly ignore her. His words from the private box floated through her mind again and she straightened her spine, determined to clear the air here.

“I don’t pity you,” she said quietly, reaching out a hand to touch his arm.

“Please,” he whispered, his voice strained and pleading. He lifted his hand in a vague waving motion. “Stop speaking.”

“No, I will not stop speaking,” she said as calmly as she could considering how suddenly she wanted to shout at him. “What is wrong with you? Why are you acting this way?”

“Don’t make it worse.” He sounded entirely defeated, so tired and sad that she wanted to slap him.

“Make what worse?! Mr. Gold, talk to me!” she demanded, slapping her open palm against her knee. “If you don’t speak to me I’ll-“

“Of course you pity me! Of course you do! Why else would you spend the evening with me, at the opera, offering to let me fuck you on the floor?”

She sat dumbfounded for a moment, watching his hands flex on the handle of his cane and his shoulders tense more and more under her gaze.

“You must be the most ridiculous man I’ve ever met,” she said slowly.

He laughed a bitter, broken laugh, teeth glinting in the passing streetlights. “There it is. Finally. That’s what I expected.”

Having had enough of his bad attitude, Belle jerked on his shoulder and grabbed a fistful of his jacketfront so that he had to look at her. “Hey, don’t put your insecurities on me. I spent the evening with you because you asked me to and because I wanted to. I went to the opera because you wanted to go, boring though it was. And I offered to have sex with you on the floor of that opera box because I wanted to!”

“You don’t-“ he began to brush her off and remove her grip on his jacket but she cut him off.

“Stretch out your legs,” she commanded, twisting and squirming until she could tug down the zipper of her dress enough to loosen it and tug the bodice away from her body. He only sat still, watching her warily. “Do it!”

He started and did as she bade, carefully negotiating his legs out away from the seat and looking up at her in wonder as she slipped the dress down over her hips and dropped it onto the adjacent seat. His hands shot out to steady her as she threw a leg over him and turned to straddle his lap, settling her hands on his shoulders and lowering herself down onto his thighs.

“Now, let’s review what I told you less than an hour ago, shall we?” she asked as she shifted herself ever-so-slightly forward until their pelvises touched. “Do you remember what I said in the elevator?”

“Y-yes.”

“Good.” She smiled and pressed herself tight against him until he had to muffle a groan. “Repeat what I told you. Say everything I said to you.”

“I…” he trailed off and she encouraged him with a nod. “I’m… helpful.”

“Mmmhmm,” she hummed breathlessly as she ground herself down against him. “What else?”

“I…. take care of you.” He clutched at her backside when she pumped her hips forward. “I…. I make you… cum?”

She laughed and leaned forward to spear her hands into his hair as he picked up her rhythm and started to lose his hesitancy. “You certainly do. Tell me more.”

“I like to see you cum. I like to see your eyes shut tight and your mouth open. I like to feel you tightening around my cock.” 

Belle gasped when he rolled his hips up against her, pressing his hardness up against the rough fabric of her panties then returned the favor by taking his earlobe between her teeth and biting down on it. His long fingers curved around her waist as he dragged her more fully against him with a growl that made her shiver. Belle could see the way his eyes slid shut and his lips parted to reveal the tip of his tongue. She had to tamp down the urge to bite at his lips and stem his rough words in her ear.

“I like the way you forget yourself and dig your nails into my back. I lo- I- I like how soft your skin is.” 

His stumble caused them both to pause, waiting for the close, comfortable air to shift back to where they’d started. 

“See, I told you you’re sweet.” She turned her head and kissed the corner of his mouth, drawing back with a smile when he tried to deepen it. “And sexy.”

“Whatever you say. Now stay still,” he murmured as he fisted his hand in her hair and used it to tug her forward until he could attack her mouth with his.

Belle moaned and arched against him as he licked at her lower lip, thrusting up against her to hear the sound from her again. When he pressed at the seam of her lips, she parted them immediately. He licked his way into her mouth and set himself to thoroughly mapping every bit of her, tasting the sweetness of the champagne and something even sweeter that he was sure was just her. A stroke of the tip of his tongue across the roof of her mouth made her shudder against him in a way so sincere that it finally broke his resolve to be embarrassed. 

“Now, are you going to send me home alone and unsatisfied or—“ 

Mr. Gold fumbled for the switch for the partition, one arm shielding her bare back as best he could while he informed the driver of their new destination—their original destination. Then he was pushing her off his lap and tugging her panties down her legs and they were both laughing as the strains of Dancing Queen blared through the thick screen. As soon as the lacy fabric was discarded atop her dress, Belle found herself half tackled to the floor by a man still chuckling breathlessly in her ear. She found it endlessly endearing that he cradled her head as he bore her to the carpet, lifting his weight far enough away to keep from crushing her as he pulled her into another kiss. 

As he fumbled with the fly of his dress pants, Belle reached into the cup of her strapless bra and found the condom she’d stashed there, knowing full well that her purse would likely be out of reach. When he’d freed himself from his pants she pushed his hands aside and rolled the condom on. Then, one hand slipping into the back of his pants to find a handful of his arse, guiding him toward her entrance with the other. He pushed up into her in one long strong, freeing her other hand to clutch at his backside as well, feeling the taut muscles there tensing as he hunched his back and plunged up into her. Her head would surely have punched a hole through the floor had his hand not still been tangled in the hair at the back of her head. She hadn’t even known how badly she wanted him until she had him. Her breathing hitched audibly with every powerful thrust and soon she couldn’t contain her breathy moans—not that he was having any more success at keeping quiet. He was propped up on one arm, though he was as close as he could be without putting any of his weight on her. His eyes stayed on her face all the time, darker and more intense than she’d ever seen them with all the light at his back. He watched her as she pulled at him with both hands to yank him deeper, tilting her pelvis up to accommodate 

“Ah, god,” he groaned, dropping his forehead to rest against hers and slipping his free arm around her to pull her down into each thrust. The only sounds to be heard were their mingled, heavy breaths and the gentle hum of the tires turning beneath them. 

Everything shifted. The world seemed to fold down on itself until only the two of them were left, moving slowly against each other, clinging and sighing softly. Belle ran her stiletto shod foot over the tensed muscle of his calf, surprised but pleased at the sudden intimacy of the situation. From such a disaster, this night was moving back toward what she would count as a success. And now that she had established his need to see her finished first, she could truly let herself enjoy this. Not that she didn’t enjoy her time with her other clients, but sex was never sex with a client. It may be exciting and fulfilling to fuck them, but that was only a side benefit. The focus was always on her clients, always on their satisfaction and their needs. Not that she begrudged that, but it was…. occasionally frustrating.

The floor dipped fractionally then pushed up into her back as the car flew over a pothole and around a corner and she yelped at the pressure of Mr. Gold’s cock as he lost his balance and smacked a hand into the seat to his right to keep from toppling completely over. Belle’s legs flew up around him in an effort to help stabilize him and they nearly knocked heads when the car straightened out too quickly. A few moments’ pause found them gazing at each other in the warm yellow light of the streetlamps, still braced for another rough spot in the road. 

“You alright?” He asked, lifting himself away enough to be able to slide his arms around behind her, stroking his thumbs against her sides. 

Belle wasn’t sure how it started, who smiled or giggled first but soon they were huddled together shaking and laughing and snorting. Mr. Gold dropped his head to rest in the crook of her neck until he groaned and twitched his hips and Belle was reminded of the task at hand. 

“We should finish this before the driver opens the door and shows the entire lobby what we’re up to, huh?” She quipped, shivering pleasantly at the puff of his warm breath against her skin. 

“Yes, I expect the poor boy would rather swallow a mouthful of live bees.”

Belle stifled her laughter in the fabric of his coat, nudging at him in protest of the joke. “I’m sure the poor boy could stand to learn a few things. Really, he should tip us for the show.”

He rewarded her with a pinch to the curve of her ass and she retaliated with her nails in his skin and her teeth nipping at his throat. Everything shifted again, picking up speed and urgency. He snapped his hips and she bucked up to meet every thrust, panting and groaning his name. She could hear the little strained sounds he was making, could feel his fingers pressing strongly into the skin of her sides and knew he was holding back until she came. She thought to herself dazedly, delightedly, what a gentleman. Then she slipped a hand between them, finding her clit and flicking her fingers against the little bud once, twice, three times until she arched up into him with a breathless cry, every muscle in her body tightening. She knew he followed her immediately after by the way he squeezed her until she could hardly breathe, though she didn’t mind. She combed her fingers through his hair as they fell still, kissing his jaw languorously when he lowered his forehead to rest against her shoulder. 

“Well,” she sighed, feeling as though she would purr if she could. “If this is what a night at the opera is like, I think I could definitely get used to outings like this.”

He pressed a kiss to the skin directly below his lips, a slow, tender kiss that seemed to speak volumes without any actual words necessary. Belle wasn’t sure what was worse, that he showed such care with her in the post-coital glow, or that her heart jumped at the gentle contact. Either way, it couldn’t mean anything good, for either of them.


	4. Just A Tip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More awkwardness, more sex, and a bit more progress between the two.

Belle awoke to sunlight and the smell of strong coffee and blinked her eyes open against the weight of sleep. As the world began to take shape before her bleary eyes, she stretched her arms up over her head and peered around the room. The other side of the enormous bed was empty and she rolled onto her back and allowed her eyes to slip shut again. If he’d gone to work already then she could take her time leaving his apartment.

“Good morning.”

The soft words startled her and she peered down her body to see a grinning, robe-clad Mr. Gold watching her over the rim of his coffee cup. His face was shadowed with stubble and his hair was mussed but he looked at perfect ease and much more comfortable than she could ever really remember seeing him. He was always impressive, always impeccably dressed and dignified, but there was some tenseness she hadn’t even realized before that was missing now. It appeared that being on his own turf suited him, she thought as she sat up with one arm holding the silky sheet to her chest.

******

“Did you make enough of that to share?” She asked and he tipped his head toward the nightstand behind her. “Oh, bless you! You know for some reason I didn’t get much sleep last night. Imagine that.”

He chuckled and brushed his hand over her calf, letting his thumb wander into the hollow behind her knee as he watched her take a sip with her eyes closed in pure bliss. There was a distinct tug low in his stomach as the expression brought back very… vivid memories of the night before; of her lips parting to allow a breathy cry between them, of her sleepy eyes blinking up at him with her pleased, kittenish smile when they’d finally collapsed together in the dark. He leaned carefully away from her and gathered the fabric of his robe over his crotch, hoping she wouldn’t notice his sudden discomfort through the thin fabric.

They sat in companionable silence in the golden light of the morning as she finished her drink. When she’d drained her mug he offered his but she waved it away with a smile and swung her legs over the side of the bed with a sigh.

“Well, I’ll just scoot along then.” She stood and stretched her arms over her head, ruffling her pillow-softened curls as she crossed the floor to her neatly stacked clothes. “Thanks for that. You never quite feel human until you’ve had your first coffee. Do you need to use the bathroom before I take it over for a while?”

“Ah, not immediately, although I was planning to take a shower.” He collected the mug she’d left on the bedside table and set them by the door to be brought to the kitchen and cleaned later. 

“Oh, go ahead then. I’ll just make do with my bed head and leave you be,” She said with a smile. 

She lifted her purse to rummage through it and he stepped behind her, drawing her attention with a gentle hand at her waist. “Well, we could simply save water and time by washing up together. My shower is quite spacious enough for two people, I’m sure.”

Her sides shook with a soft laugh as she set her purse down again and turned to face him, leaning back against his dresser and draping her arms over his shoulders. “So that’s what you’re after? Someone to reach those difficult places, hmm?”

“Well now that you mention it, I could perhaps use a bit of assistance scrubbing this certain spot on my back. There’s only so much a cripple can be expected to do on his own.” 

He’d meant it as a joke, though if it worked to convince her to stay that would be alright too. He did not expect the sharp look and forceful, biting kiss that she gave him. They were quite welcome as she gave a firm tug at his lower lip before slipping away and strolling toward the bathroom, discarding the bra and panties she’d slipped on sometime during the night. It took him a mere handful of seconds to regain his senses and hurry after her, nearly keeling over at the sight of her bent brazenly forward over the edge of the tub. She twisted the knobs below the showerhead until steam began to waft out around her, testing the temperature with her hand before straightening to look back at him with a challenging look in her eyes. Oh, good Christ, this woman.

He followed her quickly, stepping into the tub after her and feeling the nearly stinging spray against his feet. Hannah wasted no time in wetting down her hair and turning slowly under the shower head, giving him the most spectacular view of every part of her naked body shining in the light. He was already so hard it hurt and part of him hoped she’d simply let him pin her to the wall and fuck her against the tiles. She, of course, seemed completely at her leisure as she lifted his shampoo bottle and sniffed at the opening before pouring a small amount into her palm. He watched her lather her hair, stepping away from her to see the suds sliding down her back, over the curve of her pretty ass as she rinsed her hair. Conditioner followed and he stepped carefully backward until he could lower himself onto the built-in tiled bench at the opposite end of his shower. Hannah raised her hands and scratched at her scalp with her nails, sighing and swaying slightly as she shut her eyes. He nearly took himself in hand as he watched her, his cock aching and twitching slightly toward her as if it meant to direct him to the place it most wanted to be. When she turned to him after long minutes of running a damp clothe over her skin, he was glad he’d resisted the urge. The sight of her eyes darkening when she saw his arousal made him want to growl. She stepped toward him, just near enough that he reached up for her, ready to eat her alive but then she turned and opened the stall door and disappeared. The sound that left him was purely needy and desperate. The wave of cold air that washed over him was momentary, though, as she returned seconds later with a condom in hand. She wasted no time in tearing open the package and rolling it onto him.

“Come here,” he muttered, catching her under the arms and pulling her up onto the bench over him. She released a breathless sound and jerked in his grip and for a moment he feared he’d hurt or frightened her, but her slim fingers wrapped around him and she held him steady as she lowered herself onto him. She was hot and tight her knees squeezed his hips as she began to ride him, hands on his shoulders to steady herself. He was limited in his movements by his position, so he only leaned slightly back to be able to see her moving above him and to occasionally roll his hips beneath her. Her breasts hovered tantalizingly close to his face but he hesitated just shy of pulling one stunningly pink nipple between his lips to look up at her. Her little nod was easy to understand as permission, but he watched her a moment longer, unable to tear his eyes from her face. Her expression was slack, eyes heavy-lidded and lips slightly open with quiet little gusting breaths. 

He followed her prompting when one hand slid into his hair and tugged him forward, mouth nearly watering when the taste of her slightly soapy skin hit his tongue. He laved his tongue over the slippery skin, worrying it slightly with his teeth before her fingers tightened at the back of his head and tugged him up to her mouth. His arms slipped around her and tightened around her waist, pulling her as close to him as possible and guiding her hips into a slower, grinding motion. She groaned into his mouth and stopped moving altogether, deliberately tightening her muscles around him until he responded with a groan of his own. Her teeth closed around his lower lip in a stinging little bite and he used his uninjured leg to thrust up into her sharply, savoring the way she gasped and clutched at him. He would have laughed if he hadn’t been so suddenly desperate to see her finished so he could follow. He filled his hands with the swell of her ass and pulled her hips harder against his, pushing himself up at the same time to get as deep as possible. 

She cried out, a half formed curse and ground herself down against him. The slower, careful rhythm he’d established flew out the window. They strove together, bodies slicked from sweat and the water still pouring over them from the shower. Hannah dug her fingernails into his shoulders and keened every time she dropped herself down to meet him. The sounds rang around them in the small space, and the familiar first telltale prickles of orgasm at the base of his spine had him fumbling between them to press two firm fingers against her clit. Hannah’s head dropped forward until her mouth met his shoulder, lips pressing against his skin to muffle her near shout as she clutched at him and her body squeezed tight as a vice around his cock. A handful of shuttering, uneven thrusts later he followed her, nearly crushing her body to his as a wave of fire shot down his spine. She pressed kisses to his shoulder and he realized that he wished she’d forgotten herself and bit him, marked him with her teeth so that he’d have something to see in the mirror later and remember that she’d been with him that morning.

He loosened his hold, unclenched his fingers and made himself relax, though he kept his arms around her. After long minutes of slow touches and murmuring lazily to each other she slid out of his lap and out of his arms and he immediately missed her warmth. She returned just moments later with the shampoo and conditioner bottles and the hand-held shower attachment he’d had installed for when standing precariously on one foot was too much trouble to be clean. She insinuated herself between his back and the shower wall and proceeded to wash his hair, her hands buried in his strands and her breasts pressing distractingly against his back, between his shoulder blades. It was something of a task to keep from simply closing his eyes and slumping back against her when his hair was rinsed clean and she moved her attention to his back and shoulders, half washing and half massaging. 

Once there was no conceivable reason to stay huddled on his shower bench (and besides, the water had begun to run cold) they wrapped themselves in towels and went to the bedroom to get dressed. He watched Hannah twine her hair into a loose braid and pull a sweater and pair of flats out of her purse. Having successfully outfitted themselves, he escorted her to the door and helped her on with her coat. The elevator ride was quick and quiet, their arms brushing as they stood beside each other in the too warm space. Gold found himself tempted to press the stop button on the tall panel on the wall and see whether it would be possible to hoist her up onto the hand rail and have her again before they parted ways, but the doors slid open before he gathered the courage to act on the impulse. He’d called for a town car to take her home while she had a second cup of coffee upstairs, and finally it was time to say goodbye. They faced each other on the pavement and he opened his arms to hug her. Something in him demanded that he ask her to stay with him, to crawl back into his bed together and lay about all day, fucking and ordering in Chinese food and to keep her as close as possible to him the entire time. But he contented himself with the fact that she smelled like his shampoo, kissed her lightly on the cheek and opened the car door for her. 

He watched through the darkened glass as she gave the driver her address and sat back in the seat. Her face tipped down as she reached into her pocket and he waited patiently for her to look back up at him so he could wave. He lifted his hand when her face appeared behind the glass again, but the motion died when he realized her expression. She looked as if he’d slapped her clean across the face. She looked hurt. Her mouth opened slightly and her eyes shuttered. She turned away from him and he stepped toward the car instinctively, fearing there were tears slipping down her face that she’d hidden from him. But the car pulled away, and he was left standing in the street imagining tears staining the bills he’d slipped into her coat pocket before helping her put it on. Fucking shite. He’d stepped right into it, hadn’t he?


	5. The First Step

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle had just come to a tentative decision about what to do with her charming pain in the butt when he up and changed the game.

“So you boinked him in his shower and got a decent tip for it? I don’t see the problem, bluebell.” Jefferson sat perfectly calm in the dried leaves and sipped his tea.

Belle looked down into her own plastic cup and sighed. “The problem is that I nearly let myself forget that I was doing something to be tipped for. I… I almost offered to make him breakfast and wear one of his business shirts so he’d distract me and the bacon would burn and we’d only make it to the couch…” She trailed off with a tiny smile as she imagined the firemen showing up when they chose to ignore the fire alarm in favor of exploring each other.

“Oh-ho, sweetie.” Jefferson chuckled and tipped his head at her in much the way every friend to a romantic interest had in any romcom ever made. The ‘you’ve got it bad’ look. 

“No, don’t you do that! I know my boundaries. I know what my job is. He’s a client no matter how sweet and charming he is. Or how nicely he dresses. Or how it almost feels like I should be paying him for—“

“Duck.”

Belle flung herself onto her back and watched Jefferson raise his paintball gun and fire off two shots. The dismayed shout of a fourteen-year-old opponent getting splattered with paint assured her it was safe to sit up again. She’d spilled half her tea over her arm and tried to wipe it away on the leg of the sweatpants she’d pulled out of the back of her closet. 

“Darlin’, I hate to be the one to have to tell you this, but you like this guy.” He raised the hand that held his gun to stall her protest. “Hear me out. You see him nearly every week when you only allow other clients to schedule appointments every other week, at least. You take home visits with him eighty percent of the time, and have never thought twice about letting him in your building that frequently. You talk about him almost as much as you see him. And that little smile you had on when you mentioned him just now?”

Belle felt herself redden under her friend’s appraising gaze and fiddled with the sticky, sharp plates of a pinecone until he seemed satisfied that he’d driven his point home. “Oh, honey,” he sighed.

“Well what am I supposed to do about it now? I mean, he’s my favorite client, he’s clean and polite and he… it’s always… pretty great. Do I stop seeing the guy that’s paying for my Starbucks and shoe obsession and helping me save up for my first trip to Morocco?!”

“Mmm, fair point. Though I’d like to bring to your attention the fact that you just said ‘stop seeing’.”  


Belle frowned as she thought about that. “….No I didn’t….?”

“Yes, bluebell, you did.” Jefferson twitched an eyebrow at her over the rim of his teacup and Belle found she couldn’t meet his gaze.

“Well...” she threw the pinecone over her shoulder and flopped onto her back again, letting her arms fall to the ground at her sides. “Fuck.”

“Mmm, indeed.” 

Belle looked up into the branches of the trees above them and prodded at this new discovery, trying to decide how she felt about it. Disappointment made itself known first. Disappointment and sadness. But for what? There were plenty of clients that she enjoyed spending time with, one of which even worked at her doctor’s office. She cared about all of her clients to some extent, she had to, to continue meeting them, but there was something different about Gold. She… she liked him. And there was the problem. She wanted more than she was supposed to with him. She wanted walks downtown in the fall, stopping for coffee and conversation with red noses and shy touches. She wanted to fall asleep watching old movies with him, cuddled close together on the couch even if they both woke up sore and cramped in the morning. 

She sighed as she admitted to herself that his tip had hurt her so much because it had effectively put them back to square one. It had taken her sweet, short-lived daydream and returned her to the dirty reality of exchanging money for her time and her body Yes, she needed to decide what to do about this. She hadn’t been joking about funding her trip to Morocco with the cash she got from her regulars but that could wait. Perhaps it was time to begin severing the ties between herself and her favorite client. The way her stomach dropped in dismay at the thought was only further proof that she was in too deep. 

Jefferson slipped his gun under his arm and fired a single shot behind himself, surprising the college student that had thought he was sneaking so quietly through the underbrush.

“OH, COME ON!” 

Jeff only raised his plastic thermos cup to his lips and smiled serenely. “Poor bluebell,” be murmured. 

Belle wondered how long it would take him to clear the field and win the game. He would escort her back through the woods to her car now if she asked, but it was always fun to watch her friend dominate his little sphere of competition. 

 

Mr. Gold drummed his fingers against the car door, the cool leather doing nothing to calm his nerves. Buildings flew by in his peripheral vision but his attention was so wrapped up in rehearsing what he planned to say that he didn’t realize at first that they’d stopped. 

“Here, sir.” 

“Thank you, Dove.” 

Gold got out of the car and instructed his driver to stay nearby. This wouldn’t take long. The building was tall and sleek as it always was as he stepped into the lobby. The scruffy doorman gave him a poisonous look, though he imagined it was half of what every other man that came through the door got. Dear Leroy was quite protective of the woman who’d gotten him his job and his much-improved lifestyle. Gold was glad to have someone in her building who looked after Hannah. Hers was a dangerous profession and if there was one person on her side it was that much more likely that she would be safe from the sexual deviants that might otherwise find her. He stepped into the elevator and stood for a few moments with his eyes fixed on the button for her floor, though he did not press it until Leroy’s expression changed form dislike to mild concern. The doors shut and he clenched his hands around the head of his cane until his knuckles whitened. The ride was far too short. All too soon he was in the hallway, turning left, at her door, raising his hand to knock sharply on the wood.

For a moment he thought about backing out. He nearly broke and turned to hobble away from her. But then the door was open and she was standing there blinking up at him in jean shorts and a tank top.

“M- mister Gold?” her brow puckered and he cringed, wondering if she thought he was here to ax murder her. Oh, lord.

“Hello, Hannah. I am terribly sorry to have shown up unannounced but you- I mean I’ve called three times and your agent said….. Do you have a few minutes to talk?” Yes, very smooth, he berated himself. How could she possibly say no to such a bumbling request? Damn it, she’d said two words and already he was reduced to an incoherent moron. 

“Ah, yeah, sure. I’ll just go change into something…” she waved down at her clothes confusedly as he moved past her and fidgeted with his coat front. 

“No, please, I don’t want to disturb your afternoon. I’d just like to talk.”

“Alright.” She turned and led the way to the living room, sitting primly in the armchair while he sat in the center of the couch. “What would you like to talk about?”

What did he want to talk about? He nearly laughed at the way she made it sound so simple to begin. But the way she crossed her arms over her chest and wouldn’t quite look at him told him she must be nearly as uncomfortable as he.

“Hannah, please forgive me. I know this is completely inappropriate and I’m sorry to have gone about this in such a wrong way. I’d like to apologize especially for what happened when you left my home the other day. I didn’t mean to… I only meant…”

“Hey, what’s a couple hundred dollars for sex between friends?” If it was meant as a joke, her tone did not convey her amusement.

“Are we friends?” he asked, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. Looking at her directly took more courage than he had, so he tipped his head down and watched her through his hair as it fell into his face. She looked tired and upset and he couldn’t blame her. He’d thought quite a bit about this but conversation was what was needed to come to any sort of conclusion. He needed to know how she felt before they continued.

“I… think we are,” she finally answered. Her hands were clasped together in her lap and she stroked one finger over the intricate silver ring she wore on her right hand as she thought. “I…. enjoy your company. I enjoy talking to you and being talked to like an equal. I think we have fun and I’ve never regretted having repeat encounters with you.”

No declaration of adoration by any means, but better than he’d hoped for. Enough at least for him to breach the subject he’d been dancing around. “Then Hannah, as a friend, I have a proposition for you.”

She began to look vaguely wary and he forgot all of his careful planning and rehearsal and plunged headlong into the middle. “I would like to ask you to consider entering into an exclusive professional relationship with me.”

There were a few moments of ringing silence in which his heart beat erratically in his chest and he wished it were possible to simply melt into the upholstery from the humiliation that was sure to destroy him soon. The seconds were stretching out and out and out and he sat there twisting his cane in circles, grinding it into the carpet in his anxiety. Would she make him wait all day for her rejection?! He’d have a fair amount of drinking to do when she got through with him, it’d have to start soon. 

“I…. I don’t know what to say,” she finally whispered, eyes wide and clear and completely thrown for a loop. “You mean being a… a live-in escort, right?”

“I- no, not exactly. Or at least not in the way of just being available for sex whenever I like. I’m not some layabout youth that doesn’t care to drive five minutes for a woman. I just…. I care about you, Hannah. I enjoy our time together too, and I’d like to be able to treat you half as well as you treat me.”

She was shaking her head and it took the wind right out of Gold’s sails. He dropped his eyes and reached into his pocket for the envelope he’d put there earlier, anticipating either his cowardice or her unwillingness to discuss the matter. He set it on the coffee table and stood quickly.

“I’ll see myself out, dear. I’m sorry to have pressed this upon you.” He was sure he hadn’t ever felt as old as he did walking toward her front door just then. He leaned heavily on his cane and hunched his shoulders, though he was nearly sweating in his wool coat and scarf. 

“Now, wait a minute.” She was following him. Likely to toss the envelope in his face closely followed by the door. “Don’t I get to think about it for a while?”

He was sure his business associates would have laughed themselves mad at the wonder plain on his face when he turned again to face her, but it had become clear to him a while ago that she would likely always have the upper hand in their interactions. 

“You’ll think about it? You’ll consider it?” He blinked and stared at her and considered asking her to repeat herself, just on the off chance that he’d misheard her from the sheer desperation of how much he wanted those words. “I don’t want to push you into anything, Hannah.”

She rolled her eyes and put the hand not holding his letter on her hip, though her smile took any possible sting from her words.. “Honestly, did I not just tell you that I like spending time with you? Silly, insecure man. Of course I’ll consider it, Mr. Gold. But may I have a few days to really make sure I know what I want?”

“Of- of course!” He cleared his throat and berated himself for his eager tone. She’d have to be kept far from his office, clearly, or he’d lose the respect of every person he’d ever worked with. Even his meek little assistant- Marie or Margie or some such- would be calling out sick to go canoodling with her boyfriend. “Yes, you may. You may have as long as you need. My phone number is in that letter and I’ll be waiting for your call whenever you’re ready.”

She smiled sweetly and nodded and he had to quash the urge to pull her into a hug. Excited as he was, he didn’t wish to force anything on her that she did not want. She walked him to the door and touched his arm as he passed her and was closing it when he paused just outside the doorway.

“My name is Aiden.” He wasn’t sure where the impulse came from, but he didn’t regret it when the result was her smile and her assurance that she would call him. It was more than he had hoped for, and as he made his way down to the lobby, Mr. Gold found himself feeling hopeful that the second bedroom he’d had made up in preparation for her arrival would soon be put to use.


	6. Close Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Regina fails to do her job and Jefferson gets higher than the clouds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: for general skeeviness of men who pay for prostitutes and mention of weapon violence. Nothing severe or graphic happens, but I want everyone to know in advance if something might make them uncomfortable.

Belle looked blearily up from her book when he phone began to buzz. The ringtone was familiar enough that she didn’t even have to look.

“Why are you calling me so late, Regina?” She didn’t attempt to hide the irritation in her voice, sure that Regina wouldn’t care any more than she might actually notice.

“I have a client for you, dear.” Regina’s nails clacked against something in the background and Belle imagined her sitting at a dark wood table in a study. Or a lair.

“It’s nearly 1 a.m. Regina. I was getting ready to fall asleep. Why the hell couldn’t this guy wait till tomorrow? Who is it?” She refused to acknowledge the hope that it might be Mr. Gold. He’d only been to see her the day before yesterday and he’d promised her time to think about it. Unless he considered fucking in her bed to be an acceptable exception to that decision. 

“A new gentleman. Staying in town for a month or two for work and looking for some…. Comfort.”

Belle frowned and sat up. She didn’t like to take new clients often, especially not travelling businessmen who she was unsure of.

“I don’t-“

“You don’t have to see him, of course, but I’d thought you’d jump at the opportunity to earn any extra cash for your little trip to… oh, wherever it is you’re going. But I’m sure there are plenty of other girls who would take the job.”

She was silent a few moments more and heard an impatient sigh from her agent. “Alright. Fine.”

“Excellent. I’m sending him over now.” She could practically hear the self-satisfied smile in the woman’s voice as the line went dead.

It took her twenty minutes to change, put on some light makeup and pin her hair into a half updo. She put on a robe and sat on the living room floor to do some light stretching. At least she’d be guaranteed a good sleep after this. Not five minutes later there was a knock at the door and she bounded up to answer it. He turned out to be a handsome man, in his late twenties with piercing blue eyes. He smile revealed a row of perfectly straight teeth and she invited him in. 

“What a lovely home you have.”

“Thank you. Before we begin…?”

“Ah, of course.” He reached into the pocket of his coat and pulled out a folded stack of bills, handing them over with a tilt of his head.  
“Thank you. There’s some towels and other things in the bathroom if you’d like to freshen up. I’m gonna step into the kitchen and be back in just a tick.”

“No.”

“Er, s-sorry?” Belle blinked and struggled to hold her smile as his faded. “No, don’t worry. I just have to tuck this up somewhere and get a glass of water. I’ll be right in.”

“But I don’t want you to.” His eyes seemed to darken as she looked into them and he took a step closer, blocking out some of the meager light from her dimmed lamps in the living room and seeming to fill the entire hallway. “I paid for your time, and I intend to use it.”

Belle forced down her urge to scream for help or try to make it out the door. He wasn’t an enormous man by any means but there were muscles apparent under his clothes and a confidence in the way he held himself that spoke of the ability to do her real harm. She could get out of this safely if she could just stay calm and think. He wasn’t outwardly aggressive yet and it could be that he was attempting to be romantic. There was something in those eyes, though, that made her extremely uncomfortable.

“Alright, of course.” She shook her head and grinned up at him. “I’ll just drop this on the shelf and we can see about spending some time together.”

“There now, that’s more like it.”

It was exactly six steps across the room to the shelves she’d spent three hours installing the night she moved in. She felt him watching her walk away and strove to keep her movements slow, trying to appear unconcerned. The decorative wooden box on the second shelf caught her eye and she lifted the lid to put the money inside. She also pulled out her Glock 21 handgun, a birthday gift from her father when she moved to the big city. Thank god for his overprotective instincts. As she raised the gun in both hands, he raised his hands defensively. 

“Easy, love. Easy! D’you even know how to work that thing?” His smile had returned, though with a slightly manic edge to it. 

Wrapping her right hand firmly around the grip and spreading her feet into a solid stance, she sighted loosely on the space between the man’s eyes. “I absolutely do know how to shoot, and if you take a single step toward me I won’t hesitate to hurt you, badly.”

For a moment all she could hear was the blood pounding in her ears and then he laughed. He threw his head back and laughed, and she shivered at the sound. 

“My, I didn’t think this experience would be quite so…. Well, I can certainly play along.” His hands went to his shirt buttons and his eyes looked right through the gun as if it were made of smoke.

“I’m not playing a game.” She flicked the safety off and tightened her hands on the grip, already thinking of every non-fatal place she’d been drilled to shoot an attacker and preparing to get out of the way if that wasn’t enough. Wounding in self-defense was a hell of a lot easier to be excused for, especially if it came out about why there was a strange man in her apartment at all. “Get the hell out or I’ll shoot you.”

He paused in the act of undressing and the mirth disappeared from his eyes. “Well, how terribly disappointing. And my money?”

“I think I’ll keep it. Hazard pay, you know?” She gave him a terse grin before raising the gun higher in a shooing gesture. “Now get out of my apartment before you really, really regret it.”

The tendons in his jaw stood out in stark relief as he ground his teeth in anger, but he backed away from her with his hands in the air and closed the door behind himself. Belle stumbled across the apartment on rubbery legs and threw the deadbolt home, fingers fumbling with the double chain lock for a full minute before she managed to get it through. For good measure, she also pushed one of her heavy oak dining room chairs in front of the door, wedging it under the doorknob at an angle. She strained her ears for any sound of movement in the corridor but her heart was still beating too loudly for much else to get through. With one hand on the wall for support and the other still clenched around her Glock, she scooped her cell phone up off the bed and slammed her thumb into the number one speed dial.

“Any fishy bills? We’ve been getting some counterfeits lately and I’ll be damned if I get shorted because you didn’t think to check.”

“You really want to talk about the money you think I owe you, Regina? You have no idea what I just went through. You sent a bloody psycho to my home!” Belle began to shake from the overload of adrenaline and anger crashing over her. 

“Well, it can’t have gone too badly as you had the wits to call me immediately after. So did you count what he gave you or not?” Those dragon lady lacquered nails were beginning to tap out an irritated beat in the background and Belle saw red.

“No, I didn’t call you after. There was no after. I didn’t let him touch me, Regina. I told him in no uncertain terms that I wanted him out of my apartment and kept his money for good measure.”

“What, you charged him for the view and didn’t let him drive through the valley?” she scoffed. “Lords above, I knew you weren’t the brightest but I thought you at least knew how to do your job. Now I’ll have to give him a refund and don’t think I won’t be taking that out of whatever you made off him.”

“Offer him whatever you like, Regina, I couldn’t care less. You can take your 15% and shove it up your arse. You’re supposed to screen the clients and keep us safe and because of you I was put in danger tonight. Don’t contact me again and have a nice trip to hell.”

Whatever the harpy had intended to reply with was lost as Belle disconnected the call and allowed herself a few furious sobs into the back of her hand. She’d effectively quit and meant it with every bit of herself, but even as she recognized that she was having a bit of a breakdown she knew that she was now without a job. She’d been leaning toward this decision for at least a day now. It was just easier to make now. Setting the gun across her knees, she smoothed her hands over her hair and picked up her phone again.

“Greetings, probable earthling.”

“…Jeff?”

“Aaah, my dearest little bluebell. I would know that inquisitive tone anywhere at all. It comes straight from your very soul.”

“Jeff, how high are you right now?”

“Anywhere from intensely to just a long series of exclamation points.”

“Wonderful.” She rolled her eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “Should I call back in the morning when you’ll be more likely to remember this conversation?”

“Nay, nay, dear friend. Speak and I shall attend to your words. Also I’ll try to decide whether the pictures on my walls have always moved or if I’ve been transported to Hogwarts… He’s waving at me…”

“Well, do try to listen, silly man.”

“Yeeessss, of couuuuurse, bells of blue.” It sounded as if he’d pinched his lips between his thumb and forefinger to feel how the words formed as they left his mouth.

She wasn’t sure what to tell him or where to start if she was going to tell him anything at all. Much as he enjoyed the occasional night with his bong, Jefferson could really eerily intense when the mood took him. For a moment she considered just wishing him a good night and staying put, trying to find a crappy fast-food job to pass the time with. No, she couldn’t stay here and besides, she didn’t want to.

“Belle? You there? Is this even the phone I’m holding right now?” His hair whispered over the microphone as he pulled the cell phone away from his ear to check that it was indeed a phone.

“Yeah, I’m here. Jeff, could you help me move out of my apartment tomorrow?”

“Uh, yeah, definitely. Wait, where are you moving to? I love you bells but I don’t really have any room in the sty for even a little otter right now.”

“I’m an otter? No, nevermind. But no, don’t worry, I have somewhere to go. Thank you, Jeff. I really appreciate it.”

“Oh, bluebell. Sweet, sweet bluebell. Dear little, sweet little bluebell. Blue little sweet little bluebell.”

“Good god, man! Stop smoking and go to sleep!” 

Belle giggled as Jefferson continued to ramble on for another few minutes before promising to get a glass of water and some potato chips and go to sleep. She would sleep with the gun beside her pillow tonight but she felt better for having spoken to a friend. Out of his head as he was at the time. Feeling suddenly exhausted and wanting to quiet the fears in her mind that she was making a mistake, Belle crawled under her blankets and promptly fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It must be a Christmas miracle, me updating two stories in a week! Hallelujah! 
> 
> About Jeff smoking, it's sort of a headcanon of mine that the Mad Hatter would go get high (I'm talking marijuana and tobacco, here) with the caterpillar just to hang out and be silly. So Jefferson's roommate is affectionately dubbed 'The Capt' and I'm not sure if he'll make an appearance yet.


	7. Fantasy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bonus smut chapter. Set during the time before the fic really takes place and probably written when I'd gotten a few drinks in me, idk, I wrote this quite a while ago. Prompted by Midstorm

Mr. Gold shivered hard as the little scrap of silk was dragged across his lips, around to the nape of his neck. The sting of fingernails digging into the skin of his thigh, just inches away from his painfully hard cock was a delicious contrast to the gentle slide of the material now causing gooseflesh to rise over his back.

"Come on, Gold," a warm voice crooned in his ear. "Tell me what you want. There must be something you want? Something no one was ever willing to do with you? Do for you? Do to you?"

He groaned as Hannah’s teasing fingers dipped even closer to him, pausing just before they meet his straining erection. Her breath was warm against the shell of his ear and he could feel her hardened little nipples pressed against him as she continued to tease him with what had started as a scarf. Apparently he wasn’t the only one enjoying this.

 

He twitched when she settled her palm over his eyes, stroking his brow soothingly with the silk until he relaxed back against her on the bed. “This?” she asked, and he took it to mean that she thought he might like to be blindfolded.

 

“N-no-Ah!” He grunted unintelligibly when she finally wrapped one hot little hand around him, pumping slowly up and down his length while she chuckled at his reaction. For a man who had built his reputation with the sharp edge of his tongue, it always amazed Mr. Gold how quickly she could dull him down to nothing with just a touch and some filth whispered in his ear. “I w-want to be able to see you. Gods, Hannah!”

 

She’d scraped one perfectly manicured fingernail down the underside of his cock and the bolt of lightning that shot up his spine had him arching away from her, afraid to disgrace himself in her hand like a schoolboy. Too much recently, she’d been getting him off as quickly as she could without making it too obvious. She’d make excuses to leave after just the appropriate amount of time and avoiding his eyes when they…

 

She distracted him again when she draped the silk around his throat, gathering the two ends behind his neck and pulling them ever so slightly until the sensation grew uncomfortable. “How about this?” She asked, and the words in her lust-thickened accent were more of a turn on than almost anything else she’d done so far. Almost. But he shook his head again and she rewarded his communicativeness with a kiss to his throat that turned into a series of bites and soothing licks.

 

“I’ve got one more idea we could try tonight, if you’d like?” she asked, already on the move with her damnably teasing cloth. When she trailed it down his arm to…oh. His breath left him in something like a whine when she drew the fabric tight around his wrist, pulling it slightly around behind her. “Ah, it seems we have a winner. Would you like to try this, Mr. Gold? I promise it won’t disappoint.”

 

“Yes- yes,” he groaned, and whimpered when she took her hand away from him after a final squeeze.

 

“Don’t fret, love. I’ll take care of you,” she assured him as she slipped away, leaving him feeling cold without her body close enough to touch. “Scoot up to the head of the bed and lie down on your back with your wrists crossed. And then we’re going to play a little game.”

 

He should have known he wouldn’t be able to keep up with her, should have begged for mercy from the first messy kiss she pressed to the tip of his cock, but he could never have found it within himself to stop her. It was more than worth the raw, red marks on his wrists the next morning from when he’d tugged and begged to be allowed to touch her. Perfectly worth the rawness in his throat from when he’d bellowed his pleasure to the ceiling and a pleasant soreness in his back from where he’d strained against his bonds to shunt up into her harder than he probably should have, though she certainly hadn’t complained. All things considered, Mr. Gold could see himself being very happy to allow Hannah to experiment with him whenever the mood struck her.


End file.
